


Balcony

by RachelCAstrid



Category: Castle
Genre: Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hotel Sex, Kink Meme, Lapdance, Not Wearing Underwear, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Public Sex, Remote Control Vibrator, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sex convention, Sybian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:03:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachelCAstrid/pseuds/RachelCAstrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink Meme Prompt: "Beckett gives herself as a gift to Castle for the weekend. Anything he wants. (Toys in public with Castle controlling them, Orgasm denial, Rough sex in public, Exhibitionism)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reservation

“I made the reservations,” he says, looking accomplished. It’s a similar grin to the one he gets after he’s finally finished a novel or cracked a case or pushed her to have at least one more climax just when she thought she was spent. She loves that grin.

Occasionally she fears it. But mostly she loves it.

She has something for him for their weekend getaway, too. She offers him a small gift box tied with ribbon. “I know it’s only Monday, but I thought you’d enjoy knowing all week what I had in mind for you come Friday.”

He’s halfway through the ribbon, but that doesn’t surprise her. She’s only surprised that he hasn’t made a lascivious comment about Come Friday.

She’s already thought it. She’s already counting down. They both could really use this weekend away.

As he opens the box, she watches him intently. His lips quirk up. His eyes shine. “Is this a gag gift for the ‘man who has everything’?” he asks. Its only contents are a slip of paper—the word _Anything,_ written in Kate’s handwriting.

“I’m your gift,” she elaborates, eyes shining back at his. She purses her lips and lets one mischievous brow arch to convey the full extent of her meaning. “All weekend. All yours. Anything you want.”

“Anything, huh?”

Shyly she ducks her head but catches herself; looks up again to be as bold as she wants to be. “You just tell me what you want, and . . . it’s yours.” She leans in for a kiss, but he playfully steps back, teasing her.

“I’ll do that,” he says with that same accomplished grin, and she thinks maybe she misspoke earlier. It seems he’s going to enjoy knowing all week what he has in mind for her.

* * *

She’s reading on the couch on Thursday night when he comes in from his office.

He stands before her, silent and content, until she realizes he’s there.

“What’s up, Castle?”

So far he’s told her nothing of what he wants of her, what he wants for them. Tonight he only says: “I want the balcony.” Then he disappears again into the other room.

“From me?” she calls after him, futilely. He’s gone. He’s scheming.

She can sense his grin through the wall of books between them.

* * *

By the time they get back to the loft after work on Friday, Kate’s pretty sure they’re not going to make it on the road as early as planned.

They left the precinct on time, of course. They’re just coming up against an unforeseen delay in the bedroom, their safe haven from the family bustling about the kitchen with their own dinner preparations.

Final touches on their packing somehow evolved into foreplay, and now that her pants and underwear are around her ankles, she’s not exactly in a hurry to leave.

Castle parts her folds and sucks on her clit. “I couldn’t wait to open my present,” he quips, making her whimper with his fingers while his mouth is otherwise engaged.

She’s mad with it already—not that they’ve been abstaining, but it’s still been a long week waiting for their getaway—and in her escalating euphoria, she murmurs something that doesn’t make sense even to her.

Road. Reservation. Time. Yes fuck oh there.

Something like that.

He gives her slit a long lick before returning to his suckling and fingering. She writhes beneath him, scraping his scalp as her legs begin to tighten and tremble. She tries to breathe, tries to release air and tension and—oh. Oh, no.

“Castle?”

“Yes?”

Let’s see. What’s the polite way to say this to the man you’ve gifted with yourself? “Why are you pulling my pants up?” There now. Only a little bit like she wants to kill him.

“Oh!” he says, almost theatrically. “You’re right. I forgot something.”

Did he forget to fuck her? She knows they’ve got to head out soon, but since they got this far, it seems only fitting that they take one for the road.

But apparently he’s got something else in mind. He leaves her lying on the bed while he fetches something out of his luggage, something he must have packed earlier because she never noticed it.

The realizations hit her as soon as she identifies the wireless purple egg in his hands. She feels her face flush.

“This is for us,” he says, easily sliding the toy into her wet pussy. “But you’re going to hold onto it. That half, anyway.” His grin is back in all its glory.

“You have a remote control.” It’s a guess, but it isn’t a question.

“Hm?”

“You’re delirious with power already.”

He gives an appreciative glance to her naked legs, her aching center. “You really want to know?”

“I already kn—mm. . . .” Oh, oh it feels good. Just a teasing pulse, steady and low but gone too soon, leaving her insides waiting, longing for the pattern to come back.

Castle’s almost as pleased with it as she is. “I am _really_ looking forward to hearing more of that sound.”

He tucks the remote control into his pocket and toys with the string dangling from the vibrator inside her, and she doesn’t know whether to beg him to take it out or turn it on or leave it be—yes, leave it be until and only until he’s ready to play. Oh, that option is so tempting. But then she realizes it isn’t actually an option. It’s what’s going to happen, because Castle is slowly easing her panties back up her legs and she lifts to cooperate.

“Any other questions?”

Just one. Because she’s _his_ gift, and as much as she’s sure he’ll get off on this, it wasn’t a request she was expecting when she offered him _Anything._ “Why?”

He simply says, “Because I want the balcony.” Then he pulls up her pants, the toy safe and snug inside her and hidden oh so innocently beneath two layers of clothing. “Now let’s hit the road.”


	2. Game

She groans, almost as annoyed as she is aroused. “I can _hear_ it.”

“Yeahhh,” he sighs. “Isn’t it great?”

She steadies herself in the passenger seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. “I just . . . expected it to be quieter.”

“Mm, I shopped around with that in mind. But apparently if you really want quiet and unobtrusive you need to be willing to give up a bit of power.”

“And I guess you wouldn’t want to do that now would you?”

“Oh, no,” he agrees.

She rides out the thrumming vibrations while pedestrians pour into the crosswalk ahead of them, all so unsuspecting of the toy nestled in her sex.

As though the ongoing tease doesn’t have her warm and tingly enough, the sight of these crowds so close and so oblivious to her dirty little secret is actually doing it for her—one of those situations she didn’t know would turn her on until now that she’s thrust into it.

Who knew? Maybe a little exhibitionism really is as much her kink as it is Castle’s.

And maybe, almost, with just a little more sensation—

“Green,” Castle announces, clicking the vibe off the moment the traffic light changes. “Have you won yet?”

“Won?” she says, breathing deeply as she slips farther and farther away from the edge of release. They’re playing a game Castle has dubbed Green Means Go, Red Means Come, and she is not winning. Not by a long shot. “No.”

“Better luck next light,” he chirps.

She’s suspected for at least three traffic lights now that he doesn’t want her to win. Not yet.

Of course, it’s only another block before they’re approaching yet another light, and Kate curses city driving at rush hour.

As usual, Castle adjusts the vibe to a low pulse for the fleeting moment of yellow and then to a continuous high vibe for red that makes Kate writhe in spite of herself.

“Oh. . . . Oh, God. Cas—mm, unh. . . .” The moan slips into a defeated whimper as the pedestrians eventually disperse and the sedan rolls over the painted white lines and through a shiny green light. Her walls convulse dully around the silenced toy as though to ask why the good thing stopped.

Castle grants her some quiet, no doubt containing his amusement at her gradual recovery. “You okay?”

“I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

“It’s only been one mile,” he laughs, and she groans in self-pity. “You know you can always safe word out, right?” It isn’t a taunt or a tease; his tone is all genuine concern and love, and her heart flutters.

But since they’re pulling up to another red, she’s feeling more sassy than sweet. She answers from her groin. “If I did it because I couldn’t stand waiting anymore, would you pull over and fuck me right there?”

She can feel her body lubricating the egg, celebrating the return of the vibrations even as it begs for thrusting motions and clitoral stimulation that she’s already been forbidden to provide herself.

She swears into the back of one hand and squeezes the seat with the other. This torturous pleasure takes her so close and just shy of close enough.

The light changes and she’s never felt more conflicted in her life about a traffic signal. Frustration and relief coil together inside her.

Meanwhile, for the first time tonight, Castle looks a little flustered. He swallows hard, his speech sounding only as unaffected as he can force it to sound. “I might pull over and fuck you if _I_ can’t stand it anymore.”

Apparently this is getting to him more than he’s let on.

Good. Serves him right.

He clears his throat and faces the windshield. “Don’t worry,” he soothes, as though she’s the only one suffering. “We’re getting out soon. Thought we’d stop to eat before we leave the city.”

That does it. She snaps to attention. “Wait. What?”

* * *

Minutes later, they’re taking a ticket in Katz’s Delicatessen and ordering their food.

“Aw,” he laments. “The table I wanted is occupied.”

He gestures toward a table for two. A sign hanging above it reads: _Where Harry met Sally. Hope you have what she had!_

Although she’d never been here, she’s well aware of the deli’s claim to fame. She flicks her eyes away from the couple in the coveted seats and mutters: “You better not ruin one of my favorite movies, Castle.”

While they wait, Kate spends the entire time convinced that someone, everyone, knows what she has inside her, even though Castle has mercifully left the vibrations off since they stepped into the building.

He buzzed her once or twice after they got out of the car, only to discover that the highest and noisiest intensities make Kate crumple in on herself so that she can barely walk. He’s promised her mercy, at least until they get to the table, and she’s more than a little nervous to sit down to eat.

Of course he teases her during their meal, alternating between the settings in a way that has her crossing and uncrossing her legs again.

Her only consolation is the noise level of a famous deli on a Friday night. It seems every seat is taken and the indistinguishable conversations cover the sound of the vibrator, even at its higher settings. Castle makes this discovery all too soon and exploits it at random, basking in her struggle to feed herself.

Like the pedestrians, this crowd is oblivious—until one young man at a nearby table catches her eye just as she breathes through a burst of vibration.

Occasionally he glances at her after that, smiling like he knows that she’s almost getting off in front of everyone here. Yet he says nothing, like he’s content just to witness her heightening arousal.

His dining companion never looks in her direction, but she catches herself fantasizing anyway that the man is describing his observations in lewd detail.

Then there’s a long moment with no vibrations at all. She manages to eat awhile without squirming or resituating.

“Enjoying your respite?”

“This is intentional? At this point it seemed more likely that the battery burned out.”

She half expects him to give a pulse or two to prove her wrong. He doesn’t, and she’s disappointed. And then she’s annoyed that she’s disappointed.

She’s not sure whether she’s craving the release or the tease now.

“No, it’s intentional,” he says. “I’m going to ask you to do something and I wouldn’t want to distract your focus.”

“And what’s that?”

“Fake an orgasm, right here, à la Sally.”

She swallows down the gut reaction about _right here_ and takes a different tack, something sure to distract him. “I don’t fake it.”

“Never?”

“Not with anyone I wanted to see again.” Before he can attempt to draw names from her, she quickly adds, “I’d only be cheating myself, right? Even if”—a furtive glance, a lowered voice—“even if I’m not going to come, how’s a guy ever supposed to learn what to do for me if I train him not to?”

He smiles, probably pleased with what she’s said out loud in public or, even more likely, the implication that he’s been as good in bed as he thinks he has. “Well,” he agrees, “you’re very direct about what you want when you want to be.”

“A win-win situation.”

“All right. Then just re-enact the scene for scene’s sake. Do it for Meg.”

“No,” she laughs, secretly holding back that she’s always wanted to pull a Meg Ryan in a restaurant. If she stalls long enough, maybe she’ll work up the courage. Or Castle will relent and later they can role-play this fantasy in the privacy of the bedroom.

But so far he’s not relenting, as though he’s onto her. “C’mon. People come here just to do that all the time. The staff is used to it. Which makes this _perfect._ It’s public, but not newsworthy since it happens so often, and even if someone recognizes you, you have the movie for a cover.”

Just as Kate opens her mouth with another playful refusal, a woman begins to moan, her voice rising over the din. It’s the curly blonde beneath the sign, and the bearded man sitting across from her watches, deadpan, while she proceeds to imitate the Sallygasm right there in the middle of the room.

But then something really strange happens.

More and more moaning resounds throughout the deli. Twenty or so seated women begin to sigh and keen and wail. Some of them run a hand through their hair; some throw back their heads and beat the tabletops. All of them writhe and grin and knit their brows in sensual pleasure.

If they aren’t really coming, they’re certainly enjoying putting on the show.

It’s a ruckus.

Kate’s eyes are wide at the sound and sight, and then her mind races to piece together the why and how of what she’s sure can only be one of Castle’s crazy schemes. She glares accusingly at him. “Did you do this?”

“I swear I didn’t.” He looks her in the eye as he says that much, but then his gaze wanders shamelessly again as he takes in the view of twenty orgasmic women. “I _wish_ I did this.”


	3. Conversation

The vibe jumps to life inside her, making her startle with a soft, involuntary moan.

Castle has somehow shifted his attention from the orgasmic horde to look at her like she’s the only woman in the room. There’s determination in his eyes; lust and power.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ask anything of her. Like anything he could possibly want is within his own control.

Oh fuck.

He’s going to get her off in a room full of people.

The thought alone is enough to soak her.

She shifts unobtrusively in her seat and does Kegels around the vibrator, savoring the sensations, wanting them to last but begging inside for release.

Everything begins to sound far away, and she thinks she’s being pleasured into oblivion until she realizes that it’s the illusion that the panting, screaming women are creating. They’re fading out like a music track, each one calmly collecting herself and smiling like a satisfied bitch in heat.

One patron who hasn’t been participating in the noise is a gray-haired woman who’s only been staring agape all this time. She stands up and announces loudly enough for the whole room to hear: “I’ll have what _they’re_ having.”

People laugh and applaud and bond over having experienced something so bizarre together.

She should have expected it, Kate thinks afterward, but the older woman’s last homage to the movie catches her off-guard, and her own laughter destroys her mounting tension and impending release.

“Fuck,” she says under her breath.

“Did you—?”

“Almost.” She’s half-laughing and half-crying and one hundred percent trying not to draw attention now that the commotion is settling down.

She might have gotten away with being vocal earlier—either by herself or in the midst of the howling crowd, but now?

Now she’s feeling the pressure to keep it contained. Not to mention the physical frustration of being so close before her body backed away from the edge.

Castle plays with the remote, trying to get her back there, but her body has physically rewound too far, and mentally she’s convinced herself that she’s missed her chance, be it a private orgasm or a re-enacted show.

He’s sympathetic; seems to understand that it’s time to get back to their trip. “I’m going to use the restroom before we head out. You need to go?”

Kate shakes her head no and manages a smile for him. It isn’t _his_ fault laughing robbed her of an orgasm. Not this time, anyway.

* * *

She tries not to feel awkward while he’s gone. She’s just an average patron sitting at a table in a famous deli with a toy in her pussy. A toy she cannot control. A game she’s yet to win.

She’s glad when he comes back and takes his seat.

“You ready?”

“Actually, I’m still hungry.” He takes a nibble of the remaining pastrami. Seriously. A nibble.

She laughs, “Are you sure?”

Apparently he’s sure. But he eats unbearably slowly, compensating for it by continuing to engage her in conversation and teasing her with periodic vibrations. And—oh, okay. That isn’t half bad. Her body is more willing and wanting than she realized.

“How’s that?” he asks openly.

“Surprisingly good.”

“Good.”

If she wants to get out of here, that was probably the wrong answer.

Castle continues on his mission, expertly notching up her arousal as though it had never fallen, and she’s all the more convinced that he’s taking his time for the sole purpose of drawing out her torture.

“Castle,” she says finally, eyeing the last bits of his food. “Don’t you want to get back on the road?”

Fucking hell, she’ll take a thousand blocks of Green Means Go, Red Means Come in stop-and-go traffic if it means she doesn’t have to hold anything back the moment she wins.

He watches something over her shoulder and then his attention is all hers again. “Listen,” he whispers, buzzing her as though for emphasis. “It was staged. It was all staged.”

“I thought you—”

“I didn’t,” he insists. “It’s an improv group. I’m guessing they figured individuals pull a stunt like that all the time, so if they wanted to make a scene they had to make a good one.”

She leans in conspiratorially. This feels good, listening to him divulge this information across a table in a crowded room. It feels like theory sex at the murder board. She feels her face go hot, and not just from the vibrator teasing her pussy. “What do you mean? How’d you know?”

“I overheard some guys talking by the bathroom. They’re going to do it again in a few minutes, now that some people left and new people came in.”

“Again?”

“That’s why all these improv people have stuck around. Did you notice that most of them haven’t finished their food?”

She glares at his plate and then back up at him. She’s noticed _his_ plate, _his_ food.

But before either of them can speak, they hear familiar words coming from that same couple at the table beneath the sign. They’re reciting Harry and Sally’s conversation about whether or not Harry can discern a fake orgasm, and just like that, Sally launches into a reprise of the festivities, only to trigger more and more women.

“Don’t fight it,” Castle coaxes, just as the vibrator rockets past a setting or two. He’s wearing his best deadpan Harry expression to blend in.

“Oh, God,” she says into a sea of the same words. “I—”

“Just let it happen.”

He ramps up the toy, working her to the point of frenzy. She’s flying past where she was minutes ago, but she’s still not quite where she wants to be.

“Look around, Kate,” he insists, the command hushed but urgent. “Look around the room.”

She does as he says. She watches the women, their faces screwed up in ecstasy. Her insides hum along with the toy.

She sees the staff, smiling and laughing at this large-scale spectacle, twenty times more ridiculous than any given day. They’re watching the crowd. Including her. God, that’s so hot. She should be embarrassed, shouldn’t she? But she’s so turned on, so hot, so wet, so hopelessly high on the rush she recognizes from her wild child years. They’re watching her and she likes it.

But she’s still in limbo, and she doesn’t know if she can actually get off like this.

She looks over at the man with whom she made eye contact earlier, but he’s preoccupied, watching his dining companion participate with the ranks of public orgasm re-enactors. He’s effortlessly playing his part. He has the same deadpan look on his face as Castle and every other guy opposite a writhing woman.

But then he glances away and sees Kate. She’s sure she’s flushed, among other physiological signs beyond her control.

He’s been thrown off his game. He looks hungry for her, the very sight of her. Even though he’s still seated—reserved and collected—she reads his eyes and they say _I want to fuck you._

She imagines Castle fucking her on this table while the mystery man watches; imagines his date sucking him off while he envies Castle’s hard cock, coated in Kate.

 _You can’t have me,_ she writes in her eyes for him to find. _But you can watch._

And it rips through her as she’s watching him watch her, her jaw hanging on a silent scream that she can only hold back for so long. Her mouth is so dry but still she sucks in air only to expel it again on a moan, and another and another. She grips the table to steady her body as pleasure washes over her and recedes again, leaving her sated and spent and staying upright for the sake of appearances but God knows how.

She’s just one more writhing woman in the crowd, one more voice fading out like a song.

But Castle catches her eye, a boyish grin on his face because he’s just mastered his new toy and his new toy has just mastered her. “I think it’s safe to say you’re the happiest woman in the room.”


	4. Mission

His breath tickles her skin as he leans in to whisper: “Go into the bathroom. Take off your underwear and take out the toy.”

She’d hate to admit it, but hearing him say that here makes her cheeks burn, as though just listening to him talk is the most scandalous thing she’s done today. More scandalous than either eye sex with a stranger or coming in her pants in the middle of a deli, moaning aloud and contorting in her seat. Such is the power of his words.

She nods and swallows hard and tries to collect herself enough to do as he asks, but when she stands to go, his voice beckons her to face him again: “Kate.” He glances at her jacket, slung over the back of her chair. “You should put that on.”

“Am I . . .?” _Wet? Really, really obviously wet?_

“No, but you don’t have a purse, so . . .”

Oh. Right. Pockets. She’ll need pockets unless she intends to carry her wet panties and the egg out of here in her bare hands. Fuck if she could just think clearly right now.

She drapes the jacket over her arm and follows the neon sign toward the ladies’ room, the door’s location in the dining area no more discreet than the illuminated words and arrow pointing to it.

With her destination announced in the obnoxious glow, she feels all the more on display. Between that and the squishy feeling at her crotch, this is both a walk of shame and a victory lap.

She doesn’t even look over her shoulder at Castle. She wants him to see the victory of her stride, not whatever tinge of shame she may have in her eyes.

Because the shame doesn’t bother her. It actually excites her a little bit more.

But seeing it would bother him, and she doesn’t want him to stop.

* * *

Inside, she lines up behind two women waiting to use the two tiny stalls. With the addition of the improv troupe to the regular customers, Katz’s is probably extra crowded tonight, so she’s relieved that the line is as short as it is, but she does a silent meditation just to keep from relieving herself right here, right now.

With the egg still inside her, she can barely differentiate the fullness of her pussy and the fullness of her bladder.

Soon a voice interrupts her mindful breathing: “Wasn’t that fun?” It’s the woman ahead of her, the only other one waiting for a stall now that one more freed up, and—yeah, she’s definitely talking to Kate.

Kate focuses and the question finally registers. “Oh. Yeah. It was.”

“Have you done a lot of these?”

“A lot of . . .”

“Missions.” The word rolls off the woman’s tongue as easily as Castle offers theories about the CIA.

Meanwhile, Kate’s detective skills kick in, and she plays off the context clues so she doesn’t blow her cover. She’s an honorary member of this improv troupe today. Just today. “Oh. No, not a lot,” she says, honest and casual.

“Well, you should. You’re really good.”

Kate laughs and ducks her head and tries to react like she was just complimented on her acting and not on how hot her very real orgasm was.

“This is my second,” the stranger volunteers.

Kate puts on her jacket, squeezes her thighs closer together, and makes conversation to distract them both. “Oh, yeah? Was this one better than the first?”

“Well, the other was Black Tie Beach. Hard to top that.”

A flush from one of the stalls signals to Kate that she doesn’t have to keep up this conversation much longer.

“Actually,” the woman adds, “as great as this was, it felt more like a performance. The last one was just plain fun. Sometimes it’s good just to let loose, you know?”

“Definitely.” This chick doesn’t know the half of it. But Kate opts not to enlighten her.

* * *

It isn’t long after the woman takes a vacated stall that the next one opens up for Kate.

The toy slides easily out of her wet labia, and she cleans the come from it quickly before sticking it in her coat pocket, trying not to think too much about the stranger one stall away.

Soon the chatty woman is wordlessly washing and drying her hands, but once the blast of the dryer shuts off, she hesitates and calls out: “Nice meeting you,” as though obligated to finish their pre-pee conversation, despite that Kate’s still in the stall.

 _Stalling,_ she thinks, immediately blaming Castle’s influence. Public play and puns: Assimilation complete.

Fortunately, the stranger who’s decidedly not a native New Yorker doesn’t also hang around for a response from Kate, who’s mentally choreographing how she’ll strip in the small space. Once the bathroom door closes, Kate realizes she’s finally alone to clean herself up in peace.

Clean up or . . . other things. Absentmindedly, she touches herself, sensitive enough now that she’s grateful to be free of the vibrator, but still aching with a need to be penetrated by something more satisfying than an egg and aroused with the scent and sensation of her own soaked pussy.

But then she remembers that Castle hasn’t lifted the ban on her self-stimulation. She lets out a soft, frustrated moan, willing herself to stop fantasizing that he’ll come fuck her in here.

He must be sore with need by now, and if she’s honest, the orgasm she had feels more like a prelude than a finale.

But this place is cramped and filthy and the sooner she does as he asked, the sooner they can get in the car and she can convince him to pull the fuck over.

She tries to keep her pants off the floor while she quickly slips out of her panties, all too self-conscious about how long she’s been in here.

She already knew her underwear was long gone, but the wet spot in the crotch of her pants is something of a surprise. It’s still visible by the time she’s pulling her pants up again.

She tucks the panties in the pocket opposite the toy and goes to wash her hands, enjoying the reprieve of privacy.

That’s when she gets a crazy idea. It isn’t often that Kate asks herself, “What Would Castle Do?” but his thinking patterns have left an indelible mark.

As she turns her hands under the heat of the mustard yellow dryer on the wall, she glances furtively at the door and takes her panties out of her jacket pocket like she’s slowly taking her gun from the holster. She gives them a preliminary dry, knowing it won’t solve the problem but it can only help.

And—well, so long as she’s here and doing crazy things. . . .

She rises on her toes and lifts her crotch toward the blast of air. She’s just about convinced that this is futile and that little wet spot is probably harmless, anyway, when the door opens, and Kate jumps back.


	5. Compliment

Castle laughs from the crevice of the doorway just as she shoves her panties into her pocket. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

“I was—drying. My hands.” After what he’s just done to her at the table, his catching her doing something silly still manages to fluster her. Running her bare hands beneath the dryer again, as though they still need it, she purses her lips and watches him, waiting for the wisecracks.

“Uh-huh. So listen. There’s a waitress yelling at me and giving me the stinkeye right now. Apparently this neon sign is a little too obvious for me to claim I’m in the wrong restroom by mistake.”

Well, that explains why he’s just a head poking lewdly into the room and not buried balls deep inside her, where he should be.

“Also,” he says, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this place smells like brisket and pickles. So if you and the dryer are done here . . .”

“Really? No blow job jokes?”

“I was getting to that.” His eyes rove her entire body, pausing to admire her hands as she rubs them together under that ugly mustard yellow fixture. “And as hot as this is, I’d prefer the real thing.”

She bites her lip, realizing it only after the fact. “I could give you the real thing.”

“And I could come in and let you. Or I could stand right here and make you touch yourself while I tell you all the dirty things I want to do to you, but there’s exhibitionism and then there’s . . . Stinkeye. So how ‘bout we take this show on the road?”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” She can think of plenty of ways to have fun on the road.

“Kate,” he says suddenly, his eyes dark and greedy. “Unzip your pants.”

Kate looks directly into his eyes and unbuttons and unzips the fly.

Of course she isn’t wearing any panties, so she knows he can see that little bit more of her flesh. Her core is still mostly hidden beneath the pants that stay up only by the grace of her hips. So it’s just a tease, but by the look on his face it’s a damn good one.

She wonders if she’s just flashing him or if he’s going to touch her or make her touch herself or . . .

“Sir,” the waitress calls over the clatter outside. From what little Kate can hear of her, Stinkeye sounds like a good moniker. “Sir, I told you that’s the _ladies’_ room.”

Castle pries himself away just long enough to glance behind him, like he’s going to come up with an excuse in order to appease Stinkeye, but apparently fails and swallows as he turns again to Kate. “Leave it like that, but close your jacket.”

She does, and she gets to the doorway before Castle’s figured out how to breathe. For the moment that she crosses the threshold, she holds her breath a little, too. The pants kiss her hips even as she walks and the jacket’s long enough to keep her deceptively decent, but a little wet spot is now the least of her concerns.

Stinkeye watches them emerge and seems relieved that she no longer needs to juggle customer service and adult supervision.

“Zipper problem,” Castle tells the waitress in passing, as though it explains everything.

Without missing a beat Kate chimes in: “It’s fixed now.”

* * *

Most of the improv group members are either gone or going, but a few have stayed behind with a small camera crew to interview some of the staff, and Kate and Castle find it a little hectic to make their way to pay for their meal and leave.

Finally, it’s their turn.

“Thank you,” an employee tells them, and it sounds like he means _for dining at Katz’s tonight_ until he says, “We enjoyed that.”

Kate’s awkwardness probably comes across like modesty, or maybe a healthy dose of embarrassment for engaging in an orgasmic flash mob, but she manages to say, “You’re welcome.”

“Our pleasure,” Castle adds, and she finds it in herself not to step on his foot.

“You were very good,” the employee tells Kate. “Are you a professional or do you just do this for fun?”

It’s still bizarre to her to hear feedback on a sexual experience from someone other than her partner, and she makes the mistake of looking at Castle. There’s a special place in hell for him, the way he’s beaming. He’s about a thousand times more amused now than he was when Chief Brady mistook her for a hooker, which is saying something.

Of course Castle answers before she does. “She’s just getting into it.”

At that the employee nods and seems to remember that he has a job to do. “Tickets?”

“Sure.” Castle easily produces the ticket with his order on it, encoded in Katz’s Deli shorthand.

Kate, however, does not.

They were warned when they arrived not to lose their tickets at the risk of a hefty fine in lieu of the exact payment, a method peculiar to this place.

And Castle, his amusement never waning, says innocuously enough: “Didn’t you put it in your pocket?”

So then she’s stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets, feeling around damp panties in one and a vibrator in the other and coming up otherwise empty.

And then she has a moment of clarity—terrible, terrible clarity. She lifts part of the hem of her jacket, careful not to give the guy more of a show than any of them bargained for; lifts just enough to sneak her hand into the tight little pocket of her pants that’s too small for things like vibrators and panties and—there it is.

Teeny tiny little fucker. Screw the fine. This ticket almost cost her some dignity.

She hands it in and Castle pays for their food, but part of her—a mostly playful and entirely vengeful part of her—still wants him to pay dearly in other ways for his part in this mess, and she glares daggers pretty much from the door to the car.

Castle’s undeterred. “They enjoyed it,” he teases her along the way. “But you enjoyed it more.”

“Shut up.” A smile eases the tension in her brow and they both know it’s as good as her conceding that he isn’t wrong.

* * *

“So,” he says in the car, Manhattan behind them. “The bad news is you didn’t catch my let’s-do-dirty-things-in-the-bathroom hint. The good news is, once I saw the bathrooms, that wasn’t such a bad thing. But we’re going to have to work out a signal.”

“A signal, huh?”

“You know what?” he says, caressing her inner thigh, and she gets the sense that he’s not even thinking about the undesignated signal anymore. “Watching you have a real, uncontained orgasm in public was even better than watching you fake one.”

“Not that you would actually know,” Kate teases, but obviously the only effect this has on him is to stroke his ego, a fact he doesn’t even try to hide.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

It may have been a mistake to let him know he’s as good as he thinks he is. Then again, even if he becomes insufferable about it, at least he’ll keep up the good work.

Like right now. Lighting little fires up and down her legs.

She rolls her eyes and consciously remembers not to touch herself, all too aware of her bare skin beneath her open fly. “So were you going to let me come so soon or was that a detour from your master plan?”

He laughs. “So _soon?_ Need I remind you: You were going to climb the walls.” He turns from the windshield to catch a glimpse of her. “Still are.”

“I’m not complaining,” she assures him. “It just seemed ahead of schedule.”

“Let me let you in on one of my Secrets of Public Sex. Flexibility.” Castle’s eyes crinkle at the sides when he smirks. “Oh, well, actually, both kinds of . . . The point is, there are going to be times when things don’t go according to plan. Either something goes wrong, or something goes ridiculously right. Sometimes—”

Kate unbuckles her belt and strokes the proud bulge in Castle’s lap.

He manages to finish the thought, but his voice suffers for it. “Sometimes there’s an opportunity you just have to take.”

She bites his earlobe, inhaling his delicious cologne as she unzips him. “Like this one?”

It takes some maneuvering, but all too soon and not soon enough, Kate frees his shaft through the hole of his boxers. He’s hard and heavy and leaking for her. When she sees the wet spot on his boxers, she feels just a little bit vindicated for everything she’s gone through tonight.

She sucks the head into her mouth and can’t help but smile around it.


	6. Diversion

“Kate . . .”

“Mm,” she hums, sliding her mouth over his thick length. Tasting him only makes her thirst for him all the more. The console is digging into her, but she supports herself with one hand on his thigh and keeps going. “Mmmmm.”

Castle shudders at the sensation. Despite his skilled driving, the car swerves and quickly corrects, jerking Kate in his lap. He curses and she can hear the engines of some cars flanking them and pulling away. His right leg shifts beneath her and the car slows just in time for them to take the very next ramp.

She rests against his skin; licks him, licks her lips. “Did we almost miss our exit?”

“Not exactly.”

And then he’s pulling over on the first empty road they find, and Kate wonders which one of them was technically the first to break.

* * *

The car isn’t her favorite place to have sex—less an issue of privacy than one of comfort—but after hours of teasing, the need to feel Castle inside her is more than enough persuasion. She’s ready before he’s made a move.

He leans over to kiss her, penetrating her mouth and drawing a moan from the endless well within her. One hand slips inside her open pants to her wet, swollen skin. Without the hindrance of underwear, his fingers move easily against her, and she leans into his touch.

She reaches for him, too, her mind momentarily too clouded to remember how to get rid of his boxers and the pants that they’d wrangled down his legs. “Off,” she murmurs, and then his digit massages her clit and words become impossible.

No sooner does she whimper before he’s gone, and it takes her a second to register that he’s doing as she asked. He sits back and arcs up to pull off his shorts and pants and holy hell, she loves his legs. Why does he hide them behind long pants almost year-round? She’d complain about it if she weren’t too busy ogling the long lines of muscle leading up to his hard shaft.

She’s still kicking one foot free of her own pants when he climbs over the console.

Between the two of them they manage to recline her seat. Trailing kisses along her jaw, he gives her just enough space to turn beneath him, and finally, finally he thrusts into her, his body hot at her back and his fingers tangled in her hair.

He fills her, erasing that empty ache that the vibrator left behind. The hard, slick flesh of him feels so right.

She dips one hand beneath the hem of her jacket to rub her clit, not even bothering to ask Castle whether she can do that now. Neither one of them has called a safe word, but since a roadside fuck wasn’t on the agenda, she’s not too concerned about the rules and she’s pretty sure Castle isn’t, either.

Not to mention that this isn’t exactly a place they want to take their time. They’re pushing their luck as it is, the falling darkness their only cover should someone come by.

“I’m—”

“Me, too.”

It’s only a few more thrusts before she convulses around him, pulling his orgasm from him, and in that moment rules are the furthest thing from their minds.

* * *

After they’ve cleaned up and dressed their lower halves and rejoined the New Jersey Turnpike, Castle is still trying to make sense of the dumb thing he caught her doing an hour ago. “Okay, the panties I get. But why’d you try to dry your crotch? You’re wearing a jacket.”

“I know, but . . . I wasn’t thinking, Castle. Shit, I’m so horny I can’t even _think.”_

The furrow in his brow tells her this just became about more than her antics with the hand-dryer.

She wonders if he’s questioning her decision to go down on him in the middle of I-95, or even her consent to car sex while parked on a dark, deserted road. If he is, he doesn’t admit it directly.

“Still thinking clearly enough to safe word out, though, right?” He says it like it’s a joke, but the slightest break in his voice betrays actual concern.

“Castle.”

“Mm?”

“Earlier tonight, on our way to the deli—when you asked if I knew I could safe word out of this or whatever else . . . And now . . . What you’re really asking is if I _will_ stop you if I need to. Isn’t it?”

He hedges enough to signal that she’s right, and part of her resents that he would doubt her. But even more than that, she wants to set the record straight for his sake.

“I know what I said. But I do know what I’m doing here,” she assures him. “This gift thing. . . . All of it. I love you. I love you enough to give you anything I can. And I also love you enough to tell you what I can’t.” It isn’t lost on her that openly promising such openness is exactly the kind of honest communication they’ve been working on for so long.

He’s quiet at first, taking that in. “I love you, too.” But after a beat, the certainty of that statement fades into a question she can’t believe he needs to ask. “You trust me, right?”

She rolls her eyes at him until she realizes the gravity in his voice is not for nothing. “I do. Although,” she says, trying to lighten the mood, “there is that small matter of swerving in traffic.”

It doesn’t work. Castle’s more sensitive about this than she anticipated, and he comes back with a genuine defense: “And I pulled over.”

“I’m just teasing you,” she tries again.

He’s just as stubborn. “I would never intentionally put you in danger.” He’s really serious. True, he makes both her job and sex life more fun, but when her wellbeing is in his hands, his seriousness can exceed her own.

“I know that,” she says, sobering for him. “I’m sorry. That was my idea, and in hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best one. But you handled it really well. And we’re okay. Everything worked out okay.”

He nods, but she can tell that he doesn’t feel any less guilty.

“Hey. We’re in this together, you know. If one of us does something dumb or pushes the limit, the other is there for backup. It’s what we do.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, noticeably brightening. “If not for me you might still be drying your crotch in a deli restroom.”

She purses her lips at that. “Okay, but when we do dumb things, we don’t harp on them.”

“Since when?”

“Since always.”

“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t believe her.

And she doesn’t blame him.

* * *

By the time they arrive, the parking lot of the convention center is full but not packed, and they score a decent spot just as a car pulls out. “Can’t believe they’re calling it a night already,” says Castle. “Still two hours left.”

“Or maybe they weren’t here for this,” she theorizes.

“They’ve got a bumper sticker that says, _If you’re going to ride my ass, at least pull my hair._ They were here for this.”

“And they had another that said _Emergency Zombie Response Unit._ Should we tail them in case of outbreak?”

“No,” he concedes. But lest she think a concession means she’s won a point, he adds, “I’ve already got my zombie apocalypse gear. And besides, I’m not planning on riding anyone else tonight.”

Kate rolls her eyes and falls into step with him.

Inside, they navigate the center together as though the scene is part of an ongoing investigation: Kate all-business, and Castle pointing out all things big and shiny—and there are plenty of them. Walls and booths lined with sex toys and props and furniture, some all too familiar and some beyond Kate’s wildest fantasies, and all too tempting for Castle. Maybe it was a mistake to accompany him here. Except—

“What time was that seminar I wanted?”

“Starts in twenty,” he says, checking a clock on the wall.

“Oh, good. I was afraid we’d be too late after our . . . detour.” She bites her lip in thought, fully aware of the added bonus that it drives Castle crazy.

But he’s too complacent to be seduced at the moment. He’s taking in the sights and sounds of an entire exposition devoted to sex. “Aw, no,” he assures her, “I wouldn’t let you miss this.”


	7. Challenge

“Wow,” says Castle. “Now that’s a big cock.” He points to a fat green dildo in a collection of toys designed to evoke _The Avengers._ The display item that’s caught his eye is a 12-inch-long homage to the Hulk.

“Castle, you use that on me and I will end you.”

“If it doesn’t end you first,” he teases.

But Kate doesn’t have to wait long for a way to one-up him.

They wander deeper into the convention until they find themselves standing in front of a huge mechanical rodeo penis, long and flesh-toned. It’s not her usual fare in entertainment, yet somehow she can’t look away.

“Wow,” she says this time. “Now _that’s_ a big cock.”

Meanwhile, Castle—an aficionado of big, expensive toys—doesn’t look all that impressed with this one.

But then they watch as a tall, buxom woman climbs onto the cock. Even her long legs aren’t enough to save her, and within moments she’s tossed off the side onto the inflatable platform.

Castle does nothing to hide his admiration of her cleavage as she mounts the ride, leans forward, falls, and stumbles back to her feet. Clearly he’s found something to like about this after all.

“I want to watch you ride it,” he says, as though he expects he’ll need to persuade her.

She could probably use that to her advantage and barter for something she wants, but she did say she’d give him _Anything._

And besides, proving Richard Castle wrong is its own reward.

No persuasion necessary, she slips out of her long sleeves and pushes the garment to Castle’s chest. “Hold my jacket, stud.”

* * *

It’s the strength of her thighs that’s letting her last this long. She can feel her muscles gripping the cock between her legs even as it swerves and whirls. It’s smooth, almost too smooth for this. A few vein-like ridges and the solid head are the only exceptions to its smooth, rounded surface.

Kate winks at Castle as she rides. He grins broadly at her, beaming with pride the way he always does whenever she shows her strength and skill. He can’t help himself.

And there’s an undeniable lust there, too, and she wonders if he’s imagining the same dirty scenes that she’s imagining right now.

She tries to concentrate on her center of gravity, but seeing his face on this last turn has done her in. All she can think about is Castle—the sweat on his face and shoulders as she rolls their bodies and pins him to the bed in her mind; the breathless kisses and give-and-take of energy; the need in his eyes as she straddles him and teases him and finally takes him into herself.

Kate’s imagination is her downfall. The mechanical cock’s movement is nothing like the sex in her fantasy, and in a moment of desirous distraction, she’s thrown to the ground. She hits the inflated fall-zone in a fit of laughter, hardly stunned that she didn’t outlast her daydream.

Castle meets her at the opening of the ring and circles his arms around her waist. He hugs her to him, turning them both as she hops down to the solid floor. Their full-frontal contact is brief but it’s enough to tell her that he thoroughly enjoyed her stunt. “Good ride?”

“Not as good as the one we’re going to have later,” she assures him.

He gives her ass a playful swat as they walk. “What makes you think it’ll be just one?”

* * *

They’re just outside the auditorium when Castle surprises Kate. He says, “Have fun. I should be back before the end. Try to save me a seat next to you, and otherwise I’ll meet you here at the door.”

She wants his company, but even more than that, she isn’t so sure that she should let him out of her sight—as a general rule, let alone at a sex convention. “You’re not staying?”

But he’s adamant. “You enjoy. You’ve been looking forward to this seminar since you heard about it.”

“We could enjoy it together,” she wheedles.

“Or,” he wheedles back, whispering seductively in her ear, “you can enjoy it now, and then later we’ll both enjoy discussing what you learned.” He kisses her neck before he straightens and smiles at her. “I wanna get something.”

“Please tell me it isn’t the Incredible Hulk dildo.”

“Not making any promises.”

And then he slips away, leaving Kate to take a seat and divide her attention between the seminar and her fantasies about what Castle could be scheming.

What if it _is_ the Incredible Hulk dildo? Will she be able to take it?

Her pussy contracts around the imaginary dildo, frustrated at the emptiness and the sudden need for the fullness of penetration.

The speaker on stage introduces herself and a list of topics she’ll address in the context of women’s sexuality. “And of course,” she says, holding up a rabbit vibrator, “the ever-popular Sex Toys.”

Kate tries to remember that she’s attending this particular event more for educative purposes than for entertainment, but in her current state of arousal, every prop and gesture turns her on a little more.

Whenever Castle comes back, she might have to take his hand and lead him right back out of here.

* * *

He sits in the spare seat beside her and whispers in her ear, “I just bought you a present. I can’t wait to give it to you.” He kisses her neck again, just a little peck as though to let her know he missed her. “It’s waiting in the car.”

Kate’s wandering hand is just about to give him some idea as to how much she’s missed him when Whitney, the seminar leader, draws her attention away.

“And by the way,” says the amplified voice, “it’s so good to see some men here tonight. Sometimes the guys think this is a ladies-only seminar, but women’s sexual health and satisfaction should be just as important to their partners.”

Kate smiles at Castle, but the peace doesn’t last.

“You,” Whitney says into the microphone, looking and pointing directly at Kate. Then she wags her finger between Kate and Castle. “Is that your partner?”


	8. Simulation

“I said, is that your partner?”

“Uh—yes.”

“Have you had sex with him or not?”

“Yes.” This time it tumbles off Kate’s tongue so easily, and she wonders if everyone in the room can tell they did the deed not two hours ago.

“Lately?” Whitney presses, eliciting a chuckle from the crowd.

“Yes.” Haven’t even bathed yet. Maybe they reek of it.

“Even better. Bring him up here.”

Kate and Castle exchange a silent dialogue of mutual acquiescence and head down the aisle. Applause ripples through the audience.

“I had to ask,” Whitney explains, “because I’d hate to invite two people to do what I’m about to invite them to do if they aren’t already . . . well-acquainted. Or currently on good terms.”

They stop at the foot of the stage—not exactly hesitating, Kate decides. Listening. Waiting for further instruction. But from behind her, Castle’s hands form a protective, possessive vise on Kate’s hips.

Whitney takes notice. “Fondness and familiarity certainly don’t seem to be an issue here.”

Kate feels a twinge of something in her gut. Self-consciousness? No. Arousal. It catches her off-guard, makes her dizzy. Warm.

“First things first: You may have come here voluntarily, but I do respect your privacy. Before you come on stage, you’re both welcome to these, if you want them.” She reaches into a box for two nondescript black masks, and suddenly Kate wonders whether she should be feeling self-conscious.

Castle gives Kate’s hips a gentle squeeze before they part. Effortlessly, Kate hears his voice in her mind’s ear: _Still okay?_ She nods at him as they accept the masks.

“Yes, please, go ahead, put them on—since we live in the age of the Smartphone and the Stupidhuman and we know that no matter what I say, some schmuck is going to try to post this on the internet.” Whitney glares forebodingly into the audience while Kate and Castle take the stage.

The audience laughs a little uncomfortably now, indicted by her frankness or maybe humiliated in advance on the couple’s behalf.

She throws a glance over her shoulder to the lucky couple, presumably surprised that they’ve already stepped onto the stage and faced their audience. “You still want to volunteer?”

“Um,” says Castle.

“For what?” asks Kate.

“For what,” Whitney echoes. “Exactly. Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, what did I say earlier about consent?”

She pauses for the crowd’s disharmonious but generally accurate response. “That’s right—complete and enthusiastic. And consent is just as important in an established relationship as it is in a new one. Good for you. All right.”

She turns again to her anonymous volunteers, masked marauders of the stage. “With your consent, you two will demonstrate a few positions for everyone. Don’t be shy—I’ll guide you through.”

Castle fishes for details: “And our clothes . . .?”

“Oh, by all means, take off your coat and get comfortable. Of course, as per convention rules, you’re to remain clothed. I’ll only touch you to help pose you as necessary and never on your genitals. You’ll only simulate acts of intimacy with one another. All in good taste and for the very worthwhile cause of helping folks improve their sex lives.” Whitney smiles like she’s offering everyone iced cold drinks on a hot day.

Kate’s throat is parched with anticipation.

“You can stop now or at any time if you change your mind, with no judgment or recourse. Simply say so.”

She invites more questions if they have them. They both say no. The air feels light at the thought of what comes next.

“So is this something you’d like to do? That is, here . . . tonight?”

It sounds even better out loud than it did in Kate’s head. The woman’s voice is so gentle and yet so erotic, the teasing touch of a feather along an inner thigh.

Judging by her knowledge of her lover’s kinks and the growing bulge in his pants, she’s pretty sure that Castle’s already on board, but for now he keeps his mouth shut, deferring to her. She shrugs a little and quotes him back to himself: “Sometimes there’s an opportunity you just have to take.”

He agrees. Of course he does.

“I like the way you think,” says Whitney. “All right, friends. Let’s start with something simple. This first one should embarrass you both equally.”

Oh good.

* * *

“Once you’re comfortable with the alignment here, the hardest part is not flexibility or strength but maintaining focus: If your partner’s doing it right, you’re going to be a bit distracted. That goes for both of you.”

Kate almost wishes she were distracted right now. All she can think about is Castle’s bulge in her face and the warmth of his breath on her crotch as they lay side by side on the mat. When Whitney said “simple,” the simplest version of 69 was not quite what Kate expected.

A delicate hand slides along the slope of her knee and opens her body just that little bit more.

“Despite the distraction factor, this can be a sweet, lazy lovefest for any combination of genders. Of course, either one of you being on top will demand a different level of physical exertion. Who’s feeling like a top tonight?”

Castle rolls them so that Kate’s on her back on the mat, his body draped over hers. It’s a sexy maneuver if not entirely graceful.

People in the audience laugh and catcall and some woman randomly calls out “Nice ass” as frankly as if she were reporting on the weather.

Kate isn’t so sure she likes everyone ogling her man. She strokes the sides of Castle’s legs and hips, as much a territorial gesture as a sensual one. She may be pinned to the mat at the moment, but she’s not about to let these banshees think she’s a pushover.

Oops. Whitney’s talking all this time and all Kate hears is Castle’s dick begging for attention.

“. . . Whether your lover is male or female, there’s no need to leave everything up to the mouth. These oral sex positions can also allow great access for manual stimulation. In this case, our manly model might enjoy his partner massaging not just his shaft and balls, but maybe his prostate or perineum.”

Ah yes, that’s been known to make this particular male squirm.

Kate presses her knuckles against Castle’s perineum just the way he likes it. She doubts it will have the same effect through his pants and without a blowjob to go with it, but what they currently lack in direct contact they must be making up for in adrenaline.

Castle inhales sharply. She feels his quads tighten and flex.

She thinks she hears Whitney say something about fingering, but all she really registers is white noise while Castle returns the favor and presses the seam against her crotch and flirts along the apex.

Without her underwear on, she feels especially self-conscious about her wetness, but there’s no time to finish the thought. Castle disentangles from her and coaxes her on top of him while Whitney talks the crowd through 69ing with a woman on top.

“Are you even paying attention?” Castle hisses under his breath.

“Pay attention? _You_ pay attention,” Kate hisses back. “I’m trying to concentrate on not grinding into your face.”

Soon Whitney touches her shoulder and helps her to stand up and plant herself above Castle again, this time facing the other direction. Kate must have missed another instruction or two. Whitney takes her hand and together they tousle Castle’s hair until Kate’s instincts kick in. She guides him to her as though he could actually do anything to satiate her needs like this.

“That’s it,” says Whitney. “Give a good tug! Ahem. Better there than another body part.” The crowd is chuckling and Castle is breathing deeply and Kate . . . Kate is a live wire.

When she’s flat on the mat again, letting Castle bury his face in her crotch, she sees the stage lights above them and the faces of just the first two rows. Everyone else is nothing but silhouette and breath. But she knows they’re there, devouring every word while Whitney plays with her masked toys. They’re watching them, two horny marionettes tangled up in strands of restless obedience.

By the time Castle holds Kate’s legs and thrusts against her core, with Whitney narrating every technique and variation, Kate decides that she’s one grind away from ripping some clothes off and breaking more than a few convention rules.

She doesn’t want to call time-out, but she doesn’t want to get them kicked out of here either. So all she has to do is get to the end of this and then—

Whitney pauses mid-instruction, smiling sympathetically at her volunteers. “You seem frustrated.”


	9. Stimulation

“So you noticed,” Castle murmurs.

“You,” Whitney says to him, “I’m not talking about you. _Everyone_ noticed you.”

Castle says thank you, but the appreciative crowd and Whitney’s microphone overpower his voice.

“Do you two frequently use dry humping as foreplay?”

“No,” Kate replies, still steadying her racing heart. All her effort is undone the moment Whitney places the microphone near Kate’s lips. Softly she clears her throat and answers again. “No. Not frequently.”

“Then maybe you should.” The crowd applauds in agreement. Whitney looks into Kate’s eyes through the holes of the mask. “You like the tease, don’t you?”

“Boy, does she—”

“Okay, sweet cheeks. When it’s your turn I’ll let you know. Right now I want to hear from your partner.”

Kate would offer Castle a compassionate expression if she could hide her bemusement right now. She can’t and she doesn’t. “I like a bit of a tease. Sure.”

“And public play?”

“As it turns out, yes.”

“What about you?” This to Castle, who dares not speak even now, but nods slowly with eyes wide open. “Well then,” Whitney says, like she’s tying on an apron and cracking eggs into a bowl. “Let’s try more positions for intercourse. But this time, let’s show you all how easy it is to ensure that oft-neglected clit is getting all the attention it could possibly want.”

As Whitney wanders to the other end of the stage, Kate tries to recall what was there during the earlier portion of the seminar. That was one of Whitney’s many toy boxes, but which one?

Sure enough, she returns with a long white Magic Wand, the massager that reminds Kate of the shape of a microphone. She plugs its cord into an outlet onstage and switches it on. The toy whirs and purrs seductively. She turns it off again and hands it to Kate.

“All right, my dear. This is to be at your own discretion. Leave it off, turn it on. Hold onto it yourself or hand it to your partner. It’s all up to you.” She turns expectantly to the audience: “Because we are . . .”

“Taking charge of our sexuality,” the crowd recites, not quite together, as though Kate needed to be reminded of just how many people are in the room.

Whitney turns to the couple whose arousal is beyond palpable. “I assume you’re familiar with doggy style?”

Castle grins. Fuck that filthy grin. He’s thinking about two hours ago. Kate forgives him but only because two hours ago was pretty damn good and this isn’t so bad either. And besides, in a second he’ll be behind her and she won’t have to see that particular grin for a while.

She balances on both forearms, one hand holding the lifeless wand on the mat as Castle’s warmth alone seems to draw her knees apart.

“As you can see,” Whitney tells everyone else in the room, “from here either one of them can reach her clitoris or fondle her breasts. . . .”

That’s her cue. She positions the toy’s bulbous tip against her. It would be so easy, so easy to switch it on, but . . . she takes too long to decide. They’ve already moved on.

Whitney’s delicate hands guide Castle down onto the mat and then Kate onto Castle’s groin. “Ride him, cowgirl.” The audience whoops and chuckles.

Now that they can see one another, Castle makes funny faces at her. Suddenly the heightened drama of Kate’s last dilemma and the disappointment about her indecision all dissipate into sheer enjoyment.

She loves this man—this brilliant, insufferable idiot. She sticks her tongue out and crosses her eyes at him until Whitney’s next instruction interrupts their playground flirtations.

Obediently, Kate rotates to reverse cowgirl, handing the wand to Castle so she doesn’t get tangled in the cord. He folds his arm over her hip to place the toy near her crotch, and she takes it back into her hand. Castle sort of hesitates, like he doesn’t know where she wants him. He’s usually so confident in the bedroom. It’s adorable to see him fumble a little under Whitney’s decisive dominance and Kate’s newfound stage presence.

“Facing this way, the angle of his touch may more closely resemble how she masturbates.”

Whitney looks to her—for what? Confirmation? Kate gives a nonchalant nod, trying not to unpack why it’s even harder to admit her solo-sex habits than their collaborative kinks.

“You may like your partner to touch your genitals from a favorite side, maybe rest his wrist against your abdomen the same way you usually do. . . .” Whitney says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

But isn’t it?

Why should she be embarrassed? Why is she over-thinking what strangers will think of her when she isn’t even recognizable in her mask? Why isn’t she just having fun? The improv actress she met at the restaurant was right. There are times for performance and there are times for letting loose.

And maybe there are times for both.

Kate switches on the wand.

Immediately she’s overwhelmed with how powerful it is. “Holy fucking—”

“Shit!” Castle’s hips buck once below hers as he wrestles with the wand. “It was an accident, I swear! I’m sorry!” Poor guy thinks he touched a button he wasn’t supposed to touch. He has no idea.

“Don’t you dare,” Kate says, already too late. “Turn it back on!”

“Are you sure?”

“Do it!”

“Okay. . . . Yeah.”

She directs Castle hand-over-hand where she needs the stimulation most. It presses hard against her pants seam and she withers. Her hand falls away, fingers flexing and gripping his clothes. Fortunately for her, Castle holds on, relentless and enamored with her writhing. She rides him unabashedly, grinding into him and the head of the wand, and enjoying how her single layer of clothing dulls the sensation just enough to prolong her pleasure.

Whitney glances down at Castle and the toy nestled just above where his pelvis connects with Kate’s. “I’m sure you can feel that, too.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He’s panting even as he speaks, his arousal only arousing Kate all the more.

“What do you think?” Whitney asks him, nodding toward the vibrating wand.

Kate bites back a moan, mangling it into such a pathetic whine that she doesn’t even bother to hide the next one.

“I think we like it,” Castle chuckles, drawing tight circles over Kate’s clit as she grinds above him. He brushes his fingers over her shirt and teases her nipples, and then stops suddenly like he remembers where they are. Or did she imagine his touch? Right now reality is a blur of pleasure and need. No, he definitely touched her. He trails his fingers down her back with tender, electrifying warmth.

It’s not quite an orgasm, or maybe it is, or maybe she’s hallucinating this whole thing. Whatever’s happening, it’s making Kate sob. Her back arches and—she’s losing the ability to sit up. She’s falling. She’s falling—she’s shaking, ever so slightly.

Oh no, no, yes. There it is.

The most satisfying clitoral orgasm she’s had in who fucking cares.

She leans back against Castle’s chest and one hand comes up to brush her hair off her face but she doesn’t even know if it’s his hand or hers. The toy buzzes happily against her, the pressure unwavering and the vibrations inciting a riot in her nerve endings, draining her of the last of her tension.

By the time Castle turns off the toy, she’s hot and wet and rippling with aftershocks. The audience howls and applauds.

When she opens her eyes, Whitney’s holding the microphone at waist-level, her message meant solely for Kate. “I hope that at least took the edge off.”

* * *

After the seminar, Whitney tells them to keep the masks and wand. “Souvenirs for the occasion,” she says. “How often do you have an orgasm in public?”

She means it rhetorically, of course, but when she walks away Castle gladly reminds Kate of the score.

“So far?” he says. “I’d say about three times in one day.”

“Shut up.” Kate’s own shameless enjoyment tickles the curve of her lips. “Wanna make it four?”

Castle helps her into her jacket. “You think you’ll be able to stop at four? I’m thinking we just found your new favorite hobby.”

“This is not my new favorite hobby.”

“Sure it is. Some people have improv flash mobs. You have improv orgasms. Really, I think you’re winning this.”


	10. Frustration

Outside the auditorium, they mix with the crowds of convention-goers, vendors, and performers, stopping at the pole-dancing contest down the hall. But the competition is only just beginning to sizzle when Castle takes her hand and leads her away.

He knew it was on the schedule. Didn’t he intend to stay and watch?

“I thought you were looking forward to—”

“No time. Hotel.”

Horny she understands. But too horny for complete sentences? Too horny for pole-dancing contests?

“Really, Castle, I’m impressed that you’d pass up—”

“I bought you your own pole.”

She stops short. “You what?”

“Kidding,” he says, and she brushes ahead of him, smiling to herself.

“I didn’t say I’d _mind.”_ Kate eyes the doors throughout the convention center, wondering which way they’re headed. “So where’s our room?”

“Atlantic Highlands.”

Huh. “Is that the name of the suite?”

He only has to look at her and head for the front door for her to realize he means _the_ Atlantic Highlands. He didn’t reserve something closer? Didn’t he know they’d want to screw each other the minute they left the convention?

“Castle,” she calls after him. “That’s like 30 minutes away.”

“Forty.” He tilts his head and spins midstride to face her. “But I bet we could make it in 30.”

It doesn’t matter. The drive is more than long enough to let curiosity gnaw at her. A surprise is at stake and after several minutes of riding silently together, Kate gives up being coy about it.

She didn’t see anything new in the backseat. Whatever Castle got for her must be tucked away in the trunk or in their luggage. Maybe he’ll break. “So what _did_ you get for me?”

“Touch yourself.”

“Um. What?”

“Play with yourself,” he says, as though this should somehow assuage her curiosity.

“With . . .”

“No. Just your hands. Nothing else.”

“Hm. When did you get to be so mean?” She unzips her pants, no longer surprised not to have any panties to navigate, and slides her fingers into place. Her body welcomes the touch even now. She’d be embarrassed, but Castle’s instructions distract her; give her the excuse she needs.

“And your tits.”

Kate circles a nipple over her shirt and bra before she slips beneath the material for direct contact. She breathes deeply, occasionally closing her eyes as she enjoys herself until his voice breaks her rhythm.

“Was it an accident?” he says.

“Wha—what?”

“The vibrator. Was it an accident, or did you do that on purpose?”

Her head is foggy and it’s all she can do to respond coherently. “Have I ever told you that you ask questions at _the worst_ possible moments?”

“I think you’ve mentioned it once or twice. Don’t stop,” he warns. “You can finger yourself and talk at the same time. I’ve seen you.”

She can recall at least two recent occasions off the top of her head, but playing dumb works in her favor right now. “Yeah? When?”

“Nope. My question first.”

She smiles. Guilty. Caught. Proud. “No,” she admits, letting her touch grow more teasing than satiating, enjoying the dance along the edge. “It wasn’t an accident. It was all me.”

Castle answers her in turn: “At the loft just last weekend. That time in the Hamptons. And every phone sex conversation we’ve ever had.”

“I know.”

“I know you know. So. Why’d you do it?”

She shrugs and looks at him as she says it: “I wanted to.”

“Yeah?” He looks back at her and grins, and this time it’s infectious. They sit in silence, facial muscles twitching, beaming out the windshield at the darkness of night.

Simple. It’s all so simple when she’s honest with herself, with him.

* * *

Unfortunately, when they finally arrive at the hotel, checking in proves not to be that simple. If they thought they were beyond crossed wires and miscommunications, they were wrong.

“You don’t understand,” Castle tells the suited man behind the counter. “I’m not asking for a different room. I’m asking for _our_ room. The one I booked.”

“Yes, I have a reservation here from this Monday.”

“Okay, yes. And then I changed that reservation—should I say changed? more like tweaked it—yesterday through your website.” Castle leans haphazardly over the counter in an attempt to peek at the computer screen. “Check your email. Have you checked your spam folder? That’s where I find the stuff from you guys.”

The more Castle leans, the more the concierge tilts the screen away from him. Castle relents and falls back flat on his feet. Kate senses his mounting frustration, so she pats his arm and links elbows with him.

But the concierge is unmoved. “I’m sorry, sir. We have no record of the requested change. That room is still available tomorrow night, but I’m afraid someone’s already checked in for tonight. We can reserve it for you and you can change rooms tomorrow, if you like.”

“Yes, I’d like.” Castle sighs. “I’m sorry for my—you know, scuffing the—” He gestures to the counter but gives up on explaining anything. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

Kate pockets the two key cards and pulls Castle and the rolling suitcase along toward the elevator. “Thank you. Have a good night.”

She looks back just long enough to know that the man’s staring at his computer screen while he bids them farewell in his cool monotone: “Enjoy your stay, and please let us know if there’s anything we can do to make you more comfortable.”

Castle mutters under his breath at the closing elevator doors. When they’re undoubtedly alone, he insists to Kate: “For the record, I _did_ send it.”

“No one’s keeping record.”

“Clearly.”

She rolls her eyes. “Castle, I believe you. I’m sorry something threw a wrench into your master plan. But don’t worry about it, okay? We’ll have fun just the same.” She wraps her arms around his neck and plants a nice wet one on his mouth. “And guess what.”

“What?” He sounds only a little brighter, the infinitesimal change in no way proportional to the kiss she just gave him. She’ll rectify that later.

For now, she teases his earlobe with her breath and whispers, “I’m not wearing any underwear.” She takes the lobe between her teeth and feels him smile against her cheek.

He finds her lips and reciprocates her kiss, all the while slinking his hand down beneath the back of her pants to squeeze her bare ass.

Well, that’s a significant improvement.

Nevertheless, when they get up to the room, nothing that Kate points out to Castle can soothe him.

“But Castle, check out this tub. Big enough for two, I bet.”

She emerges from the beautifully furbished bathroom to find Castle finally, _finally,_ closing the front door and indicating some small measure of approval of the space. She thinks it’s less about the allure of the tub and more the futility of fighting circumstance.

Only now does he step all the way inside, like a puppy up for adoption and unreasonably choosy about his prospects. “Yeah,” he huffs, “but I wanted the balcony.”

Kate worries her lip and fingers the lapel of his coat. “Then I guess we’ll just have to give you a reason to like this place.”

“No, it’s too late. Can’t be done.”

She’s fairly sure he isn’t serious, so she calls his bluff the best way she knows how. “You willing to wager on that?”


	11. Dance

To his credit—and surely to his detriment—Castle doesn’t even hesitate. “One grand.” What he’s really telling her is that he’s happy to play her game. Good.

Kate corners him against the door, pressing her body against him in all the right places. If that elevator ride didn’t raise his spirits, her teasing certainly does. “Are you sure? Seems to me the odds are against you.”

He wisely reconsiders. “One hundred, then.” 

And then Kate kisses him so deeply that he has to mumble sloppily around her tongue: 

“All bets are off.”

That’s okay with her. This is just another part of the dance they do so well. Banter and kisses and teasing touches, each one an intimate step. She could dance with him all night.

And tonight they can finally take all the time they want. No interruptions, no unsolved mysteries—other than that surprise purchase Castle’s still hiding from her. It’s just the two of them now. Not even a misplaced balcony or a concierge with a stick up his ass will stop them from enjoying this weekend.

She smiles into Castle’s mouth but fights not to break the kiss until she’s as lightheaded as she wants him to be. “Maybe the first night here won’t be what we expected, but I’m sure we’ll find _some_ way to manage.”

Castle rests his hands on her hips, where he discovers her lumpy coat and laughs, “Speaking of which, is that a sex toy in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Finally. There’s the romantic cornball she knows and loves.

“Both.” She goes to kiss him again, but he teases her midair, leaving her to chase him. “Hey. I know I told Whitney I like a bit of a tease, but come on.”

Without breaking eye contact, Castle unbuttons and unzips her pants. He dips a finger inside just long enough to inspect her wetness and she swallows hard.

“Castle?” It drives her crazy when he does that.

His face is serious now, serious enough to suggest that he has a new master plan. “I was looking forward to the view.” He gestures for her coat and she lets him help her out of it. She’s about to help him with his but he’s already started on the buttons of her shirt. “I’d like a nice view.”

“Oh?” she squeaks. Probably better not to say anything if it’s going to sound like that. But no, she plants herself and finds her voice. “And what might that be?”

“Maybe a . . . beautiful feminine figure.”

“Maybe?” she objects.

“Definitely,” Castle revises.

She watches him. He pauses halfway down her shirt as though he’s considering leaving it like this, or maybe he’s reminiscing about the first time he peeled open her layers and touched her heart. 

She tries not to choke on the sentiment, tries to keep playing. This is a night for play.

“And just what do you imagine this . . . feminine figure is wearing?” Maybe his surprise for her is something sexy to wear? She’s fishing for clues as subtly as she can, but so far it doesn’t look like he’ll bite.

He finishes unbuttoning her shirt and then it’s gone. “Definitely not this.”

“No?”

“Or this.” Off comes the bra.

“Ah.”

“Or these.” He kisses his way down her thighs until he can toss aside her shoes and socks. “And these,” he says, inching her pants down her hips. “These are so wet you may as well not be wearing them at all.” 

He teases her clit with a gentle nip and then stands again, holding her, caressing her, pressing his clothed body against her naked skin.

He takes this as an opportunity for another inspection, stroking her labia and humming with approval at what he finds. He sucks his Kate-drenched fingertip, tasting her. Then he leaves her discarded clothing on the floor around her and drapes her coat and his own on a chair.

She watches him take off his shoes, admiring his ass since that’s the view he’s offering her, but by the time he works off his belt, it’s clear that he’s strip-teasing her. The rest of his clothing, sadly, stays on. He sits down on the bed and faces her.

“Your move.”

“But I’m not wearing anything.”

“I’m sure you’ll find some way to manage,” he baits, stretching out across the bed and leaning sideways to rest on his elbow, both posing for her and claiming a good view of her nudity.

She could have handled a striptease contest. She’s used to undressing in ways that get them both in the mood. But now she’s naked in the entryway. He’s left her with nothing more to—

Oh.

He doesn’t want a show.

He wants a _show._

This she does not often do.

She clears her throat and says, “I’m going to need some music.”

Castle gives her a funny look as he pulls up something on his phone, something with a beat that she thinks she can move to.

She swings her hips and his eyes light up in her favorite way, urging her on. Partway through the song, Castle sits up, so Kate indulges in the opportunity to turn her teasing routine into a lapdance.

She catches a glimpse of his face on a turn and it occurs to her that Castle’s smile is a little too smug, even for this.

“I like your interpretation,” he whispers in her ear, “but I was inviting you to undress me.”

“You could have made that a little more obvious.”

“I highly doubt I could have.”

“Mmhmm.”

“But I really enjoyed your dance,” he says, taking her hand and silently beckoning her to sit on his lap to face him. “And you know what? I know you did, too. We’re learning all sorts of things about you this weekend.”

“You could say that.”

He kisses her forehead and leans back to look in her eyes; runs his hands along the curves of her hips, savoring her, reminding her effortlessly that her body is exposed to him. He swirls a digit at her entrance and then touches it to her lips, applying her arousal like lip gloss. She welcomes him inside, holding his gaze as she tastes herself.

While she suckles, he dips a finger of his free hand into her pussy and she gasps around the fingertip in her mouth—just for a moment. Then she closes her lips and relishes the feeling of fullness, the slide of his fingers.

“I think I made the right choice.”

What does he mean by that? She doesn’t have much time to wonder.

He takes away his fingers and quietly says her name.

“Mmhmm?”

“I want us to fuck on every surface in this awful room.”

“Okay,” she laughs, and then he scoops her up, her legs wrapped at his waist, and sets her down on the desk. It feels sturdy enough, but a little uneven, unwieldy.

By the time they remove the rest of Castle’s clothes and guide his cock to her core, she no longer cares about the condition of the desk. If anything, the rocking adds to the experience. Every time he thrusts, his cock hits a spot inside her that other angles and pieces of furniture have not allowed him to reach.

She makes a mental note to sand down one leg of the desk in Castle’s office before next time. And thinking of that reminds her of this one time when they were going at it on his desk and his publicist almost walked in on them and—wait, did that really happen or was that a dream she had? Shit, that wasn’t real?

“You’re close,” he murmurs.

“I was wet before we got here.”

“You’ve been wet all day.” He drives into her and she doesn’t manage anything resembling a word. He demands one. “Haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she rasps. She leans back on her arms to help her meet Castle’s thrusts with the intensity they deserve.

“How many times did you come today?”

“Three.”

“And how many of those were in public?”

“Three—oh, God. Oh God.”

“How many people saw you come on stage?”

“Ah—I don’t know.”

“That’s right. You don’t even know.”

The images hit her all at once—the restaurant, the car, the stage. They blur together with the thought of Castle’s publicist catching them in an otherwise private moment, seeing them naked and needy and unashamed. She thinks of the man across the dining room, and Whitney, and the entire audience at the seminar. The amusement in their eyes, the hunger, the knowing. All of them knowing.

She comes hard and pulls Castle along with her.

“I don’t know what got into you at the end there,” he says, still catching his breath.

Kate snickers but finds she’s too exhausted to make the obligatory joke.

“I’m serious,” he pants. “I think you were doing most of the work. You have a secret you want to share with the class?”

“No,” she says, stroking his cheek. “By the way, didn’t you say you got me something?”

The mischief in his eye is both intoxicating and terrifying. “What’s it worth to you?”


	12. Display

They agree on the terms while Castle clothes himself. They work out all the details by the time he’s hopping on one foot and then the other to put on his shoes—forgetting to sit down or not bothering to take the time.

He wants this. Oh, but so does she.

He makes it sound like they’re compromising or something, as though he forgets the basic premise was her idea. In fact, there isn’t a single part of this challenge that Kate isn’t ready to take on. As he places one of the souvenir masks over her eyes, her nipples stand at attention.

Castle caresses the swollen tips. “I think they remember what a good time you had the last time you wore that mask. Or maybe they’re just thinking how much fun you’re about to have. What do you think?”

She can’t help but play with him. “I think I don’t think with my boobs.”

“No,” Castle agrees. He dips a finger inside her to emphasize his point: “You’re thinking with this tonight. I can tell by how fast you agreed to do this.”

“I’m still thinking with the right body part. It’s just that even the idea of doing this gave me a braingasm.”

He’s amused. Maybe even a little indignant. “I taught you that word.”

“And I finally had a use for it.”

“You’re really that excited?”

She bites her lip and wonders fleetingly if she should abandon the plan and skip ahead to undressing him again, but curiosity and candor win out. “Yeah.”

Castle kisses her, and this time she doesn’t wait for their oxygen to run low before she parts from him. “Present,” she reminds him. “Car.”

“I’m leaving now,” he says, but he procrastinates with another thorough rub-down that leaves her missing his warmth despite how badly she wants him gone.

When he finally goes, her breath catches. No one else is in the hallway, but he lingers at the wide open door long enough for her to imagine someone else seeing her standing naked. She watches, waits until he locks her safely inside their cocoon.

Then she moves to the long, low window where they’ve arranged dim lighting to flatter her nude skin in a tastefully muted display. She’s a complicated array of shadow and silhouette and nakedness, gloriously trapped between moonbeams and lamplight.

After a few minutes she spots Castle on the sidewalk. He makes no move for the lot, just stands there staring up at her window.

He takes out his phone and hers rings.

“Remind me. What did you say you’d give me this weekend?”

Tonight Kate doesn’t duck her head or shy away from the word. “Anything.”

One murmured expletive and then he’s temporarily speechless, immobile, watching her like she’s a dream that he can’t direct, can only let unfold. But that isn’t true. This time he’s supposed to direct.

“Castle,” she rouses him. “What do you want me to do now?”

“Touch yourself.”

Oh, thank God. She barely teases her breasts and inner thighs before her fingers seek out her clit. She needs it so badly she doesn’t even care where she is.

That is, until a sudden noise outside the room startles her. She pauses to glance behind her and then—

“Oh my God.”

“What is it?”

“Castle.”

“What?” He takes a step forward, prepared to run back to her.

Slowly, almost shyly, she lets her fingers find her clit again. “The, um, the neighbors are having sex.”

Even from here, she can tell Castle’s hyper-vigilance turns to bemusement. He stays put. “Use both hands. Put me on speakerphone.”

Good thing the neighbors are enjoying themselves so vocally. Castle’s dirty talk turns downright filthy.

And the combination of sex sounds and lover’s promises is so doing it for her right now.

Standing like this is not usually one of her more successful positions, yet despite that, she thinks maybe—“I’m going to—I’m—”

“Not yet.”

That doesn’t help. The idea of staving off her pleasure turns her on so badly it only intensifies the need. “Castle, please.”

“Not until I’m back in the room with you. That was the deal.”

Yeah, the part _he_ suggested. She seriously underestimated that part.

Kate expected the real challenge would be masturbating at the window. She had no idea she’d be this close to coming by now. Of course, she also didn’t count on Castle’s lascivious promises or the neighbors’ bonus sound effects.

She doesn’t want the experience to end, but she’s not sure how long she can go on like this. “Then get back here and fuck me.”

“Patience, Kate. Just touch. Savor the moment.”

She pauses to breathe and then changes her rhythm. When that finally builds her too close she teases herself, touching everywhere except where she wants it.

“You’re enjoying this,” says Castle, ever the Captain Obvious of debauchery. “Touching yourself while I watch from all the way out here. Telling you what I’m going to do. Telling you not to come. To wait for me.”

_Yeah, ya think?_

“What was that? Did you try to say something?”

Yes, well, ‘try’ being the operative word. The sound of someone screaming out a climax in the next room has her face hot and her body bothered. Her throat’s dry, her fingers are slick, and no matter how snarky she feels, all the things she’s capable of saying aloud right now are not words.

“Tell me again, Kate,” he insists in a low voice. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

No. Instead it’s a whine. It perfectly punctuates the moment that she moves her hand to keep herself from coming.

“Louder. Talk, scream. Anything. But louder. So they can hear you.”

Alone? They’re going to hear her—alone? What if they know she’s the only one in here?

Before she can think herself out of it, she cries out. She pleads for a fucking, for release. She moans in counterpoint to Castle’s urging and the next-door couple’s duet, which only gains fervor the more Kate accompanies them.

Soon a car pulls into the parking lot, and Kate’s heart pounds. Someone else hearing her is one thing, but seeing her?

Hmm.

She finger-fucks her pussy, still avoiding direct contact with her clit, and listens to the confidence and intensity of Castle’s voice. It’s like every phone sex conversation they’ve ever had, multiplied a thousand-fold. He must feel it, too. Except it looks like he doesn’t even know yet that the stakes have risen.

Savor the moment indeed.

She continues to finger herself but she’s otherwise frozen in place, not yet willing to give Castle the agreed upon signal for an unexpected audience.

When the neighbors become quiet, Kate does, too. She needs to swallow and catch her breath and wet her lips, needs to recover from holding herself so close to the edge for so long, needs to reconcile what she’s just done with what she’s about to do.

She imagines the moment that the passengers step out of the car and see her on display in the hotel window. She thinks maybe she should be feeling something she doesn’t—fear or dignity or something. But wearing her mask, she feels too safe for shame. Too unlike herself. All she feels is want.

She wants them to see her. She wants to know if she likes it.

But Castle is already executing the exit strategy. He’s caught on; he sees the car. Surely by now he’s figured out that she saw it first and neglected to signal, risking more than she’d told him she would. 

He tells her to move further into the room where she can’t see him. What he isn’t saying is to go where the strangers can’t see her. She suspects this is as much for her protection as it is to preserve the surprise he has for her. He may be an adrenaline junkie, but her partner can’t help but have her back.

It’s just . . . couldn’t he have let it go on just a little longer?

“I’m going to get your present now and bring it upstairs to you,” he promises. “Here’s how I’d like to find you.”

When they hang up, she positions herself as requested. She waits what must be minutes for him to make his way back up to their room, but she takes her stance and sees it through. He opens the door to find her standing with her hands behind her head and her legs slightly parted like she’s ready to be frisked.

Castle’s hands are empty.


	13. Control

She’s about to raise a little hell about it when he picks up a huge black bag from the hallway floor, tucked behind the wall, and carries it inside. It looks heavy.

“Castle, if that’s the Hulk dildo, I swear—”

He sets the bag down behind her, thanking her for her display and frisking every wet inch of her. “Put your hands down and rest,” he says, removing her mask. “You might need your strength.”

“Strength?”

He kisses her soundly. “But first . . . undress me.”

The tension in her shoulders eases as she reaches for him. “Avoiding confusion this time, I see.”

“Not that I’d say no to another lapdance.”

“Mm. Maybe after you’re naked this time.”

With a fierce urgency she kisses him, wraps her arms around him, peels away his layers of clothing—all like it’s their first night together, like she’s waited forever for this moment and now that it’s here she’s not letting him get away.

His skin is warm against hers now, a tactile memory of how he warmed her that night that she was drenched from the rain.

Such good things come to her when she takes a chance on them.

Castle reluctantly ends their heated embrace. “Don’t turn around until I tell you, okay?”

So she stands there, envisioning his nudity while he sets to work on who knows what behind her. 

“Turn around,” he says finally. “You like it?”

She resists the immediate urge to mount the Sybian parked on their hotel room floor. He’s set out an array of beige attachments near the black base. “I’ll let you know in a minute. But Castle, that dildo is . . .”

“Not as big as the Hulk,” he reminds her. “You can take it. Go nice and slow. Or choose whatever you’d like to try.”

Damn. In light of recent events, she might catch some flak for this decision, but she knows what she wants.

She picks up the large phallus. In her defense, it really isn’t as monstrous as the Hulk dildo she warded off.

Castle smiles like he expected as much, or maybe he’s pleasantly surprised. He washes all the attachments and secures her choice of dildo to the machine, but before she can hop on, he says, “I don’t think that cock is ready yet. I think you need to suck it first.”

“I think so, too.” Kate crawls on her hands and knees, her breasts swaying over the seat. She begins a long, slow blowjob for a cock that can’t twitch, can’t respond, can’t come. She can only continue until she gives up or Castle releases her from the task.

Castle watches her intently. Then he slides a finger through her arousal and rubs her clit before sinking two or three digits inside her. She moans into the dildo and pushes back against him, seeking depth, while he taps against her inner walls so well she wonders if she’ll make it onto the Sybian before she comes.

Gently he removes his fingers and beckons her to sit back, leaving the dildo standing proud and soaked with her saliva.

“Go ahead. I want to watch you ride it.”

“Now why does that sound familiar?”

They’ve fantasized together about using a Sybian one day, but no doubt watching her ride the mechanical cock at the convention tonight was what finally made the purchase irresistible.

She crouches over the saddle and the phallus nudges at her entrance. Castle helps her spread her lips and she impales herself until she can kneel with the semi-cylinder base between her thighs.

Already she likes this toy even better than the rodeo ride at the convention. This cock is deliciously thick, comfortably so, and if he doesn’t turn on the machine soon she’s going to start humping it.

“Are you ready for the ride of your life?”

“Ready.”

“Good, because you’re going to give it to yourself.” He hands her the control panel, a small box attached to the front of the base by a cord. “One dial’s for vibration. The other’s for rotation.”

“Oh. . . .”

Castle sits his naked ass down in a chair to watch.

“Are you sure, Castle? I’m about to have what could be the most intense orgasm of my life and you just want to watch me give it to myself?”

He laughs. “Please think about what you just said—from my perspective.”

Alas, this is no time to be modest. “Well, if that’s what you want.”

She clicks the power switch and turns the vibrations to a low setting that has her entire core instantly thrumming. She rocks against the shaft until she’s ready to try the second dial, causing the dildo to revolve inside her, and—oh, that’s _nice._

She raises the vibration and the machine sounds like it’s going to take off. Fleetingly she wonders what the neighbors can hear, and then she can’t think of anything else except that her body is pulsing with pleasure and the promise of more.

This isn’t going to take long. She’s building to something incredible. Kate leans into the feeling, curls her toes.

“Oh. . . . Oh, _fuck._ Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She ratchets up the power a little too fast and her body crumples, forcing the vibrator to massage her walls until her limbs are almost helpless to ground her. She works the intensity down and back up again, more gradually this time, and before she can even max out the dials her every nerve ending ignites.

She clings to the Sybian, cries out, murmurs Castle’s name as the orgasms build one upon another, wave after wave after wave after wave. All thought evades her except the magnitude of her pleasure.

Kate lowers the settings to a gentle massage and rides out her aftershocks, her perspiration cooling her trembling body.

She only realizes she closed her eyes when she feels Castle’s hand caressing her face.

“Think you’ll keep going, Kate?”

“Oh God, yes.”

He steps forward and his naked cock is so close she can almost taste it. He holds her jaw in one hand and his cock in the other, tracing its tip along her lips but not quite letting her get close enough to suck him. “Do you want to suck my cock while you fuck your toy this time?”

She nods into the palm of his hand. “Yes.”

“I thought so. We know how much you like having both your mouth and pussy full at once.”

Oh. So that’s what he meant earlier when he said he made the right choice.

He wasn’t wrong. The vibrator circling her sex right now leaves little to be desired. Sucking him off while she rides the Sybian is sure to rival one of her favorites to date—sucking on a penis gag while riding _him._

He slides inside her mouth once and pulls out to rest at her lips. “I have an idea.”

“What’s that?” She tries futilely to reach him with her tongue.

“A contest. Of self-control.”

She just barely stifles a snort.

He caresses her cheek with his wet cock and then pushes into her mouth. Out to rub her lips. “Let’s see who can hold off and make the other come first.”

At that, she turns off both settings on the Sybian. “Oh, yeah? What are the stakes?”

He thinks about it. She’s fairly sure he’s only pretending to think about it. “If you come first, you can’t wear underwear all day tomorrow. And if I come first, I can’t. How’s that for a win-win?”

“Hmm.” She tongues his shaft, hoping to put Castle at a slight disadvantage in his own game.

“Of course the _true_ winner, the one who holds out, also gets bragging rights.”

“And,” she adds, “the first orgasm of the morning. Winner’s choice of how that’s accomplished.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

But this time Castle assumes control of the Sybian—they agree that’s only fair—and almost immediately she realizes she’s the one at a disadvantage.

She made the mistake of letting him observe her, study her. He doesn’t let the settings get so high that they hinder her, but he’s also not wasting any time on a tease.

He has her on a steady ascent toward orgasm and she can’t for the life of her figure out a way to slow it down.

Even worse, the closer she gets, the more impossible it is for her to hold him in her mouth.

Her jaw falls open on scream after silent scream and it’s all she can do to stimulate his cock and balls with her hands and tongue while her whole body succumbs to Castle’s impressive control of the machine.

Then Castle plays dirty, as though his victory isn’t already inevitable. He knows just what to say to push her over the edge. “What would you think of going to a nude beach this weekend?”


End file.
